Two Drunks, A Sofa And Sherlock Holmes
by ITell
Summary: Just a night out with the lads as they try to get home from the pub. Lestrade learns something new about Sherlock - not that he'll remember it in the morning; and John faces inner turmoil and reaffirms his sexuality. Conversation format. Rated T out of paranoia.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. Excuse me while I wail loudly in anguish.**

* * *

"What I want to know is - is how the man can be so amazing and brilliant and stuff . . . do you want that last chip?"

"No, you can have it Greg. So I know he's fantastic and stuff . . . and - "

"Yeah I know, eh! But - but he's also kind of _really _stupid. You know, you know what I mean?"

"You're drunk Greg."

"No I'm not! Look! I can stand up and touch my nose at the same time. Drunk people can't do that."

"You're supposed to stand on one foot as well . . . where did my beer go?"

"You drank it, and part of mine as well. So - so I'm not the drunk one. Look, I'm doing it! What do I do next?"

"You recite 'The Hokey Kokey' backwards."

"Okay . . . what are the words again?"

"Or maybe it's the alphabet. I don't know. I am so drunk."

"See! I'm not the drunk one! Ouch!"

"I - I . . . I think you're pretty drunk, because you're on the floor. Haha. You failed your own test."

"Yeah, well . . . I can change the test so that I win . . . because I'm the police and we can do stuff like that."

"Alright, I think you two have had enough. Do you want me to call you a cab?"

"Nah, s'alright mate, we can leg it."

"Alright then, just so long as you both don't get behind the wheel."

G'night."

Night lads."

" . . . "

" . . . "

"Door won't open."

"Push it."

I am Greg, but - but it won't open. Why won't it open?"

"Pull it."

"Ouch!"

"Did - did you just open the door on your head, John? That wasn't very good."

"Yeah well, we're outside, so . . . checkmate."

"Where's Baker street?"

"This way . . . come on, there's more beer at mine."

"Won't Sher - Sherlock mind?"

"I don't know. We can ask him!"

"Wow. We could. Do you think Sherlock has - has ever gotten drunk before?"

"I don't know. We could ask him that as well."

" . . . "

" . . . "

"Y'know John. I've never played chess before."

"Really Greg?"

"Yeah."

"That's so sad."

"I know."

"That's sadder than when I was twelve an' Harry broke my favourite toy car."

"I know, but that's pretty sad too."

"Girls can be so cruel."

"I know."

" . . . "

" . . . "

"Which way now?"

"I don't know, it's your flat."

"Uh . . . left - no! Right, because we passed that sofa on the way here."

"Huh. People shouldn't leave sofa's lying around like that. It might get stolen."

"Y'know, I think that that's the point, 'cause they put armchairs out here the week before an' now they're gone too."

"John, is it just me, or do you think that sofa would look good in my new flat?"

"Wow, that - that would look splendid in your new flat!"

" . . . "

" . . . "

"I think - I think we should take it."

"Aren't there law thingys to stop us doing that?"

"Probably, but we can worry about those things when we're sober."

"Good plan!"

" . . . "

" . . . "

"No Greg - carry it with your legs. It's safer."

"That's better. I hate backstrain."

"Are we at the flat yet?"

"I think we've just gone past it."

"Oh. Okay. We should probably stop walking this way then."

"Yeah. Sounds 'bout right."

" . . . "

" . . . "

"Are you going to open the flat?"

"I don't have the keys."

"I don't have mine either."

"Bugger."

"Bugger."

"We could ring the doorbell."

"Yeah! Sherlock will let us - gah!"

"I could hear you two all the way down the street."

"Sherlock! Don't scare us like that!"

"I merely opened the door . . . why are you carrying a sofa?"

"Because it'll look great in Greg's flat!"

"I would advise against it."

"Why?"

"Because it belonged to a chronic masturbator with alarmingly terrible hygiene practises and three untrained dogs. Oh and a cat."

" . . . "

" . . . "

"Ouch! You dropped it on my foot Greg!"

"Sorry. Guess we should just leave it out here."

"Indeed. You can both deal with it when you're sober. Good night Inspector."

"Sherlock, I thought Greg and I would have a couple more. Now that we're at home. With beer . . . and you."

"John . . . I think you'd best go to bed now."

"No, no, no. No. I didn't mean it like that."

"I wasn't suggesting that you did."

"Because I didn't. Really, I'm not gay. _Really._"

"Oh lord."

"Greg . . . do you think I'm gay? Because I'm not gay."

"Sherlock . . . where did the stair go? Ah there! Sherlock, have you ever gotten pissed before?"

"Excuse me?"

"Drunk. Completely off-your-chops, rat-arsed drunk."

"Dull. I'll get you both some water. Though I will never let you hear the end of this."

"Have you? I think you have."

"Been drunk? Once Detective Inspector, though I'm only telling you this because I know you won't remember in the morning."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What did the great Sherlock Holmes do when he got drunk?"

"It's difficult to recall, - sit down, John, before you fall over - though I do believe a falling piano and a taser were involved. It was an unpleasant experience; not one that I would care to repeat, unlike you two idiots."

"Wow. Just . . . wow."

"Lestrade?"

"I think I'm going to throw up."

"First door on the left inspector. Watch out for the hippopotamus foot!"

"I'm alright! Found it!"

"Are you okay John? You appear to be trying to think."

"Sherlock, I - I don't know how to break this to you . . . but - but I'm not actually gay."

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**A/N: **Thank you for all the guest reviews for Improbable Hospitality.

Any and all reviews and PM's are welcome, whether you liked it or not. Constructive criticism is very useful to me. I will endevour to respond to all of them.


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